This past Sunday I went to church. It was the first time in my entire 49 years on this earth that I went because I wanted to and not to appease my parents. The very first time. And to be honest it’s not something I ever anticipated or even wished would happen. But it did and now I’m sitting back a bit in awe at the experience and the recent events that brought me to it.

Many of you know that this past year has been one of planning for our move from DC to Nashville. About two years ago Richard and I decided that it was a change we wanted to make and then we carefully went about laying the groundwork. A big challenge was space. How could I possibly afford the thousands of dollars a month in rent that is the norm for yoga studios in metropolitan areas? And then one day it hit me, maybe I could follow my good friend Maggie Lively’s (of Ashtanga Nation in Arlington, VA) lead and rent space in a church. But, would I want to be in a church? Or, better yet, would they want me?

In my adolescence, when I started to recognize my gayness, it was the church that left me feeling unworthy, sinful, dirty, unwanted, unwelcome and hell bound (good times! LOL). It scared the bejesus out of me and I fought hard to make myself change. I would sequester myself in the bathroom with the Bible and read over and over through the verses that told me I was an abomination and I would plead with God to make me the perfect straight boy I so wanted to be. Nothing happened.

Thankfully, the answer to both my concerns is YES. Yes, I am comfortable being in the church (and locating the shala there) and yes, they want me!

And it is yoga that brought me to this point. In 2001 when I first crossed through the doors of the Integral Yoga Institute on W. 13th St in NYC these barriers to self worth began to crumble. Initially I was in atheist-with-an-interest-in Buddhism mode, as I had been for a few years prior. But, over time, I began to organically feel some sort of connection, some sort of internal spiritual stirring that continued to grow. And I was traveling the globe — mostly for work, but also for fun — encountering Buddhist, Hindu, and Muslim cultures that opened my eyes to possibility. Of course I saw differences between the culture I come from and theirs, but mostly I saw sameness. I saw the shared humanity, love of friends and family, and desire to be happy and free. The potential for God to play some role in my life became more accessible. And in my yoga practice the feelings around that potential were felt — meaning, I allowed myself to experience whatever came up and in doing so discovered a side of myself that had long been buried beneath the pain and fear of being different, of being judged, of being condemned.

Woodland Presbyterian was the first church I explored as a potential home for the shala and the first thing I saw upon opening their website was a statement of inclusion:  “We are an open, inclusive community of faith that welcomes all into the life and leadership of the church regardless of ethnicity, social status, sexual orientation, or gender identity.” This is a Christian church that strives to welcome all. It was such a strong sign to me that we were on the right track. 

In January I flew down to Nashville to check out the space. The pastor was so welcoming, so open, and didn’t bat an eye when I said “my husband”. Several important parallels arose in our discussion, in particular around building community. A symbiosis of sorts seemed clear. It occurred to me that maybe this was another time for me to get out of the way of the flow-of-the-universe and open to the possibility that bigger forces are at play. So, as I opened the door and walked into the space that is becoming the shala, I knew, it was meant to be. It felt right. 

Last weekend we made the move. My family came down from Illinois and helped us move in. It was a coming home of sorts and it felt so good to be together. We’re enjoying our new home, meeting lots of friendly folks, and all around feeling good about the move. And then I received an email from one of the church members about the upcoming Pride weekend. I had forgotten that I purchased Pride T-shirts through the church and didn’t even realize that they were intended to be worn as part of the Presbyterian contingent in the parade! I hadn’t marched in a Pride parade since 1998 in NYC. It truly was remarkable to experience the joy of marching down the street to the cheers of the spectators and leaves me with much to ponder juxtaposed to that day over 20 years ago….

One thing about the parade that stood out was the group that was directly in front of us. It was the “Rainbow Squad” — an LBGT+ group for kids under fourteen. I was mesmerized by them and so proud of them. These youngsters were expressing themselves in whatever way felt natural and they’re parents were cheering them on. It was beautiful. 

And, a couple days prior, I received a text from the pastor asking if we’d be in attendance for the Pride service on Sunday. I still can’t believe how easy it was to reply “yes”. The service was an incredible experience. It had the traditional elements of church service that I do love — the hymns, the prayers, the bible readings, the organ music, the hints of formality — and the part that I had so often dreaded, the sermon. All based in the Christian faith and all with a deliberate effort to ensure inclusivity — a place for everyone at the table. 

As the sermon was delivered emotional upheaval was transpiring within. At times I couldn’t control the tears. I couldn’t stop wondering, “if church had been like this when my friends and I were young, would they still be alive?”. You see most of my closest queer friends were also raised in the church. And four of those friends that were most dear to me are no longer on this earth. All of them taken way before their time — all of unnecessary causes. So many of us turned to drug use quite young as an escape, as a means to liberate our insecurities. But, it is hard to put it away. And as high functioning as we may have been, eventually, it catches up. 

So, I’m going to keep going to church. And I hope that somehow, some way, our actions will contribute to making more Rainbow Squad youngsters feel worthy, loved and equal so that they can walk tall through this world.